someone will remember us (even in another time)
by lenuuhh
Summary: Emma Swan is a budding playwright in Boston when on the night of her debut show she is approached by a mysterious stranger who gives her a locket that changes her life forever. or The Somewhere In Time AU that nobody asked for and is set in the 50s for some reason.
1. Chapter 1

The moonlight shines upon Emma as she stands on the balcony of the venue. The moonlight catching on every curve and contour of her pale face and seeming to make her blonde hair nearly glow. She looked ethereal, mystical as she stood out against the dark background of the chic, modern landscape of the venue. Harsh and yellow colored lights carried on behind her but she stood alone like a single bright and burning star in a dark, solitary sky.

Behind her she could hear the laughter of her guests, no doubt having a great time drinking, dancing, full of glee- things that she should be doing herself. Tonight was debut night of Emma's first show as a playwright and this was the after party. She had spent months and months preparing for this night and it all paid off. Her show was a hit and everyone thought so, it even caught the attention of those who produced on Broadway which was what she had been working towards her whole career, hadn't she? Wasn't that what this was all for? After years of sacrificing relationships, friends, and even herself at times it all was to pave a path to Broadway. Yet, as close as that possibility was to Emma, it suddenly filled her with dread.

Emma shook her head as she remained on the balcony staring outward towards the sparkling city lights. Boston was alive with all the excitement of a Friday night, the energy from the city seemed to surround her and left her skin feeling abuzzed. A cold, harsh breeze blew against her causing her to cover her arms instinctively and grip the wine glass in her hand tighter. She shivered but not willing to go in just yet endures the chill of the crisp city air. Emma sighs into her glass as she could practically taste the electricity upon her tongue.

"Emma? What are you doing out here all alone?" She turns to face the voice, plastering on a fake smile, though soon realizing there's no need to.

Emma in her youth was known for her abrasive nature, cursing, running away, even getting in trouble with the law from time to time. She was discarded as the consequence of her parents mistake, a orphan who meant nothing to no one and never thought she ever would. That was until she met Ruby. Thrown together at one of their shared group homes they quickly became inseparable, clinging to each other like the way that children do. They soon aged out of the system together and learned to navigate living in a world that never saw them before. As Emma grew older she learned how to adapt to this world which required plastering on fake smiles and burying that old rage deep inside herself. Having her best friend beside her is what made it all bearable.

Emma looks at her best friend, a fake smile still painted on her lips though neither mention it. "Oh, nothing really." She takes a few steps towards her but is still far enough from the glass to be remain unseen by most of the party. "Just thinking, I guess."

She brings the wine glass to her lips once more, letting the red liquid flow over her chapped lips as she closes her eyes in enjoyment.

Ruby arches her brow and opens her mouth to speak before promptly closing it. She wants to press on but knowing Emma the harder you try to pry her open to talk about things she doesn't want to, the harder she will keep shut. So she sighs and resigns to let it go for now, "Well, come in and think at least, it's freezing out here." She grabs Emma's wrist, pulling her closer to the sliding glass door. "Plus everyone is waiting inside to congratulate you, including your girlfriend."

Emma glares at the woman, "Ruby. I told you Lily and I broke up two weeks ago, we are not together anymore." She says sounding more tired than irritated and the hard look fading away like the breeze in the night.

Emma and Lily had been together for years, meeting in one of the group homes in Emma's past but always having a off and on type of relationship. In one moment they were like fire and coal, feeding off of each other's energy, full of passion and in next they were complete opposites, fire and ice, tormenting each other and leading to each other's ruin. Yes, what they had between each other was something akin to love but twice as toxic. Infatuation.

Ruby huffs, rolling her eyes, her hand still gripped on Emma's arm, "Yeah well she showed up tonight and has been eyeing you ever since the show. So if you two are not together anymore she may not know it."

She doubts that Lily didn't understand the meaning of her message as she stood inside her apartment and said that they were over. They had broken up many times before but this time it was different. No longer was it done out of rage or in a fit of turmoil but instead had a note of finality as Emma softly murmured the words. It felt like the closing of curtains on stage, the final act had been completed and there was nothing else but the end. It was time to say goodbye to her ghosts.

Lily had said nothing but stared at her with red rimmed eyes and a look of seething anger. It took a lot for her to cry, more for Emma, and she understood how much it might have hurt her to hear those words. Yet despite as easy as it would have been to take them back and fall into their poisonous cycle once again, Emma's eyes softened slightly but her look of determination remained the same and this caused Lily to full on collapse, breaking into a unrestrained sob. She sat on the hardwood floor, Lily's head laying on her lap, as she stroked her hair and whispered kind things in her ears. When it was over and the tears on her cheeks had dried Emma lifted her onto the couch and kissed her lips for the final time. They would continue to be in each other's life's she knew, for life had an affinity for bringing them together, just differently. They would mean different things to each other now and she wondered just what those things would be.

Emma chuckles at the woman's comment but says nothing as she finishes off the last of her wine, letting the red liquid flow over her lips before following Ruby back into the venue.

It's remarkable really that at the age of twenty, Emma's play had been chosen from a competition to be performed at her community college and won. Ruby had to convince her to do so, threatening to submit it on her behalf if Emma failed to; and here they were many months later standing together under the harsh yellow lights at her after party that would be the first of many in her undoubtedly successful career.

"Emma." An arm shakes around her, her fingers dancing over her abdomen. "I've been looking for you all night." Lily practically purrs into her ear and Emma fights the feeling to instantly flinch. "I wanted to congratulate you on the show, it was such a huge success and I heard there were some scouts in the audience tonight. You are sure to get a show on Broadway." Lily smiles sweetly. Too sweetly, Emma thinks. Like syrup, thick and sugar filled, the kind that gives you cavities.

Emma smiles nervously, "Thanks, Lily," she says as she untangles the other woman's arms from around her neck. "I really appreciate your support but," Emma nudges her back to look at her sternly, her eyes meeting chocolate brown ones and holding the look, "we are still not getting back together." She says as her face settles into a hard look to prove the finality of her words.

Lily rolls her eyes and waves a hand at her, like a person dismissing a ridiculous claim, "Emma, please. Stop with this 'we broke up' story, we haven't broken up. We've just-we're just taking a break is all." And suddenly Lily looks like she did when Emma first met her. Full of false confidence to hide the insecurity that she can hear in her voice. She knows that Lily doesn't really believe the words that she is saying but she's never been good at letting go, and to be honest, neither has she. The look is there and gone in a mere second but a sort of understanding crosses Emma's face and she softens.

"Excuse me." A voice interrupts and both women stop, "But are you Emma Swan?" Emma turns to face the voice and is surprised to see an old woman. The woman must be in her eighties perhaps, with wrinkles and crow's feet, her hair a combination of peppered grey and white. She has an olive complexion and a scar above her upper lip. Yet despite her age the woman's eyes seemed have remained enchanting, capturing a fire Emma assumes she has had her whole life. Her brown eyes which burned like ambers seemed to demand a sort of attention, issuing a challenge and she was helpless to look away.

"I- l'm Emma Swan."

The older woman looks at her with absolute happiness, her eyes shining up at Emma, sparkling like no one and nothing else matters. She's looking at her like the way a couple looks when they reunite after years apart, with a sort of familiarity and tenderness though she is sure they have never met before. Her lips are curved in a hopeful smile and her hands are pressed together, like a prayer. Something small moves in her and for a moment she thinks that it was fate that might have brought her here.

That's ridiculous. She thinking suddenly. She's too old to believe in fate but yet she falters at an explanation for why the woman's eyes have captured her so. Why they seem to hold some untold history that Emma is intrigued enough to uncover.

Emma is the first to break the stare, her eyes looking away before snapping back, capturing the brown ones, "Were you apart of the audience?" she asks, figuring she must have been a spectator, why else would she be at the after party, "Did you enjoy the show?"

The woman's eyes somehow shine brighter and her smile bigger as she replies,"Oh yes. I thought it was lovely. Especially the relationship between the women finding their long lost son." She lays her hand gently on Emma's arm and instantly she could feel the warmth of familiarity. As though she's touched her thousands of times before, no more significant than it is to breathe and a wave of comfort flows through her, "It really touched me."

The woman is looking at her with tenderness again and Emma wants nothing else but to capture that look and wrap herself in it.

"Thanks, that means a lot. The story means a lot to me too."

Lily noticing Emma's reaction interrupts the conversation, putting a hand possessively around her waist, pulling her tight against her, "And who are you?" She snaps, her words leaving her lips like venom.

Emma looks at Lily then back at the other woman, bright green eyes catching sight of deep, brown ones. The woman studies them carefully for a moment, watching her eyes follow their movements and her hand ball into a fist the moment Lily gripped her hip. Lily stares with seething jealousy as her eyes meet the other woman's, a threat lying behind them. The woman stares back and Emma's body goes cold. The woman is staring back with such intensity, with such fire behind her eyes that seem to read 'I dare you'. She calls Lily on her bluff as the grip on Emma's hip loosens sightly allowing her to remove herself from her grasp. "Don't." Emma says earning a look of betrayal from Lily but a small smile from the older woman who doesn't seem to mind the look of hatred coming from the other woman.

The older woman makes no other effort to acknowledge Lily's presence or even nod that she heard her. Perhaps she didn't. Emma thinks to herself. Instead the woman is now focused intently on Emma, her brown eyes glued to the bright green ones before her. Her hand ever stubbornly on woman's arm which was now rubbing small circles with her thumb.

Emma takes a breath as the air seems to be becoming thick with the tension emanating from them both. It's enough to still the movements and laughter of everyone in the room whose eyes are now fiercely glued to the trio.

She could feel the hot stares of those around her, baring into her back and making her neck red. Yet despite all the sudden attention she could not bring herself to care as she stands face to face with the older woman, her eyes darting across the woman's face looking for a sign. A sign of what? Emma wasn't sure.

"Who are you?" Emma asks and she sees the woman's smile falter a bit, a look of hurt crossing the woman's face if only for a split second before smiling once more. Emma recognizes it, herself being a veteran at concealing emotions and hiding pain, a skill she adopted from her past foster homes.

The old woman says nothing but responds only by grabbing Emma's hands suddenly and bringing them close to her chest. "Come back to me." The woman whispers, her eyes now threatening to spill and her voice laced with heartbreaking emotion, "Come back to me." She repeats, her wavering voice is small and soft as if whispering to herself or saying a prayer.

They stay like this a moment longer before the older woman still holding Emma's hands, flips them over and leaving in the younger woman's palm a locket. "Goodbye Miss Swan." She says before tearing her eyes away from Emma and walking out the door.

Emma stands there with her mouth agape and her legs firmly cemented to the floor. Unsure if what happened was real or apart of some sort of feverish dream, Emma is tempted to pinch herself or at the very least submerge herself in a bucket of water. She rubs her eyes and notices that her hand comes away wet. Am I crying? Ruby is the first to approach. She walks carefully towards the blonde, not wanting to send her running as she often does when she doesn't understand, grabbing her arm lightly and whispering low, "Emma, who was that woman?"

"I don't know." Emma says, flipping over the locket in her hand. The locket is beautiful, adorned with the cameo of a white swan surrounded by a base of gold. It was exquisite and undoubtedly expensive. She opens the locket but finds nothing. Why would she give this to me?

"Did you know her?" Ruby ventures and Emma says nothing for a moment before looking back up at the door, a million questions burning her tongue, "I've never seen her a day in my life."

* * *

Emma wears the locket everyday since then, unable to rid herself of it but not willing to give it away. It serves as a memory of the night her life changed forever and in more ways than one. She is now a long way from her first debut show in Boston eight years ago. Since her debut as a playwright she has become a star on Broadway, each of her shows becoming the new sensational hit. She has her own apartment, a job that she loves with all the freedom she desires, her best friend at her side, and living in a city of dreams. She had everything she could ever ask for yet as complete as her life may have seemed, Emma felt as though she was missing something, she just did not know what that something was.

"Are you sure you want to do this Emma?" Ruby says as she packs an array of discs into a moving box, "I mean moving away from Broadway, from New York, from me for Christ's sake. Are you sure you don't need to see a shrink or just get laid?"

Emma had to coax in brunette into helping her pack up her belongings, bribing the woman with promises of pizza and wine when the day was over. Ruby agreed to help, reluctantly, but made no promises about condoning the move. As a result Emma must bear with her best friend's sassy and snarky comments until the move is over but it was a small price to price to pay.

She had to admit that these last eight years treated her well, better than she ever expected. Yet here she is packing up most of her belongings to be put in storage to be able to drive across the country. Drive where? She didn't know yet, all she craves is to get out of this city and drive far away. She knows she should be grateful for the life she has now, grateful for the safety of it all which she would have clung to so tightly in her distant childhood. Yet she could not stop the feeling that was burrowing itself inside of her, like a seed planted long ago which is only now starting to blossom. She wasn't sick of life, she was just sick of the life she was living. Emma knew the difference.

Emma shoots Ruby a hard look. Her green eyes piercing the other woman's, demanding them to drop the subject. Ruby, however, being as stubborn and bullhead as Emma of course doesn't. "I'm serious Em, it's been what six, seven, eight years since you last had sex?" She says counting on her fingers, "You might as well have become a nun if you were never going to get laid again."

She snorts as she continues to pack up more of her things, currently haphazardly throwing her clothes into her suitcase. "Ha ha, very funny."

Sure it's been that long since she has had a relationship but sex well she's had several one night stands since then. There was that random girl from the after party that she nearly pounced on, wanting to distract herself from everyone and everything. Then that sweet blonde who seemed so shy and reserved but nearly ate her alive in the bedroom, Emma still has her number saved to her phone just in was that man she met that the bar one night who she nearly drunkenly slept with but didn't so I guess he doesn't count and maybe her best friend was right, it had been a while, but she was not about to cave and admit that she was right.

"I'm serious." Ruby stops packing the woman's things, "You haven't dated anyone since Lily and that's been at least eight years ago and god knows how long before you broke up that you two had sex."

"Why are we talking about my sex life again?" Emma says, her lips set in a fine line. "It hasn't been that long and besides I just want some time is all, I need to get away. Get some fresh air and clear my head."

Ruby laughs as she gestures to the dozen or so boxes scattered on the floor, "When people want 'fresh air' they gets a hobby like camping or hiking or yoga even, not this."

Ruby stares down at her, her arms glued to her hips in a power stance that demands answers. "So why all of this?" She is looking down at her and Emma is trying hard to pretend that she doesn't notice the cold hardness coming from her best friend.

Emma breaks away from the woman's stubborn gaze to look down at her now fidgeting hands, "I don't know how to explain it Ruby," She says, her voice laced with vulnerability, "I just can't stand to be in this city, living this life anymore. Ever since my debut I've been on Broadway nonstop, been apart of the fast paced life in the city of big lights and even bigger dreams but it just doesn't feel like it's enough. It's like I have everything I could ever ask for my own place, a job that I love with freedom, you."

Emma focuses her gaze more intently at her hardwood floor, willing herself not to cry, "I mean who would have thought that us two orphans would make it to be who we are today? If you would have told lil ole me that she'd have half a dozen of shows on Broadway one day she would have never believed you. But look at us now Ruby, we've made it. We've made it." Emma repeats softly, once to Ruby and once to herself.

"So why are you leaving me again?" Ruby repeats but this time its light, teasing and Emma knows that whatever serious force they had a minute ago has now passed over them.

Emma throws a shirt at her face and Ruby breaks out into a wide smile.

"I'm going to miss you." Ruby says finally, dropping the boxes in her hands to wrap her arms tightly around Emma's neck.

"I'm going to miss you too Rubes, I promise to call you at least once a week-"

"Once a day." Ruby corrects, looking at her sternly. Her eyes are glued Emma's as if ordering a command. "At least once a day or else I will drive up to wherever you end up and drag you back to New York myself."

"Fine." Emma laughs as she envisions the feisty brunette driving like a madman along the highway, causing mayhem and chaos looking for her. "Fine, once a day it is."

They don't speak about it again as they finish packing just before sunset and as promised the two gorge out on pizza and wine, enjoying the company of each other for one last night.

The next morning, amidst the empty pizza boxes and wine bottles Emma whispers her best friend a tearful goodbye before loading up her bug. She knows that she is going to get an earful for not waking her up but she also knows that with one look from her best friend and she wouldn't have the courage to leave at all and so she throws her remaining bags into the backseat before walking over to the drivers side.

"You weren't really going to leave without saying goodbye were you?" Ruby is standing outside the apartment building, her hands on her hips and a harsh look on her face. "Because that would have really been fucked up, Emma."

Emma winces as she looks at her guiltily, her eyes darting everywhere to avoid meeting hers. Ruby rounds the bug, cornering her and Emma winces as she braces for the verbal attack she's going to get for even thinking about leaving without saying a goodbye but nothing comes. She opens her eyes to see her best friend standing in front of her, her eyes wet with emotion. Before Emma can say anything she is being pulled close and engulfed in a tight hug. "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for out there. You deserve happiness too Emma."

Ruby pulls away, her eyes wet and Emma struggles to stop her tears from falling. "I love you Ruby."

"Ditto." She says and it's the most Ruby thing she could have said in this exact moment and Emma wouldn't have it any other way.

"Go on. Get your early start, God knows where you'll end up by the end of the day." She pushes the blonde toward the car, waving in the mirror as she finally drives off, the open road in front of her along with a million possibilities.

It was late evening when Emma decided to stop driving. She was somewhere in Maine, she was sure but beyond that she was utterly clueless. So when she drove by the Welcome to Storybrooke sign she finally let out an air of relief and nearly cheered as she saw lights from an incoming building as she pulled into the long driveway of the Storybrooke Grand Hotel.

The hotel was beautiful, lined with several pillars in the front and had exquisite architecture. It overlooked a lake which was now covered in a thousand of tiny stars, a reflection of the night sky above. Emma unpacked her yellow bug taking only one or two bags and walked up the steps of the large hotel. From outside the hotel seemed quiet, quaint, but inside Emma was surprised to see the hotel abuzz with so much life.

"Hello there." An old woman says, waving to Emma from the receptionist's desk, "Would you like to check in?"

Emma nods as she puts her bags down and brings out her wallet. "Yes, thank you. Is it always this busy?" She asks and the woman laughs.

"No. There's some sort of conference or convention happening in the next city over so many of those guests are staying here for the time being. Usually it's not this busy." Emma nods in understanding, as she continues to observe the crowd. "And can I get your name, hun." The woman says, handing Emma back her cards.

"Emma. Emma Swan."

"Lovely name, and how long will you be staying with us Miss Swan?"

"Oh." Emma looks down at hands and back up at the woman, "I'm not quite sure yet."

The older woman nods, "I understand and we are happy to have you for as long as you wish to stay. Here's your room key to room 503 and all I need from you is to sign and date your name in our book please." Emma signs her name writing down the date right next to it.

"Thank you and enjoy your stay." The woman says waving her hand over to call for a bellhop. "Henry here will take your luggage to your room." She says pointing to the man beside her.

"Thank you-" Emma stops to read her name, "Eugenia."

"Granny, you can just call me Granny. Everyone here does." The woman says giving Emma a warm smile. And she does, she does look like a Granny with her white hair, kind eyes, and glasses around her neck. Her smile is warm, like huddling up near a fireplace in the winter or the feeling of fresh blankets right out of the dryer. So this is what a grandmother is, or at least what she imagines hers might have been like. Emma smiles back warmly at the woman, thanking her once more before following the man to her room.

The man couldn't be older than his seventies at most, with his dark brown hair and youthful eyes. He had almost a goofy kind of grin, like a person who knew a secret but wasn't willing to share it just yet.

"So how long have you worked here Henry?" Emma asks as they continue to walk down a series of hallways.

"Me?" The man laughs, "I've been here since I've been born. In fact I was born in one of the rooms downstairs." Emma looks at him quizzically. "Both of my parents worked here," He clarifies, "And I grew up running up and down these halls causing all kinds of mischief." The man chuckles. "This place is my home and so I never really felt the need to leave it."

"You must be really knowledgeable about the hotel then huh?" Emma asks as Henry unlocks the door to her room.

"Oh, yes. Any question you have don't be afraid to ask. I live in the Mifflin house just beside the lake, can't miss it. If you need anything do not hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Emma says as she proceeds to tip the man. "See ya around Henry."

Henry takes the money and begins to walk towards the door before he stops turning back around, facing Emma. She stops unpacking her bags to look back at him. He opens his mouth before snapping it shut, his hands fidgeting in front of him, "When you said that it just reminded me of-" Henry stops, thinking for a moment before continuing, "Its just that- We haven't met before have we?" He asks tentatively, his brows furrowed together.

Emma smiles and her eyes are light as she shakes her head, "No, I don't think so. I'd think I would remember meeting you." She finishes giving the man a wink.

Henry laughs at that, "Of course, goodnight Miss Swan."

"Emma." She corrects. "Please, call me Emma."

"Emma." He says as he bids her goodnight and leaves the room.

Finally alone at last Emma, exhausted from her long drive, can barely muster up enough energy to remove her shoes before crawling in bed. She lays there a moment, letting her body sprawl across the bed, her body practically sinking into the mattress. It does not take long for Emma to relax and soon she is fast asleep.

* * *

She wakes the next morning to rays of sunshine beating through the curtains in her room. She stretches in bed, her limbs spread out like a starfish as she lays in that position for a moment before getting up and throwing on her boots from the day before.

Anyone who's ever known Emma Swan knows at least two things about the blonde woman. Number one: she loves her yellow beetle bug, she loves that thing more than life itself and number two do not under any circumstance prevent Emma from getting her morning coffee. It seemed that the hotel did not get that second memo as Emma is kindly rejected from entering the hotel restaurant this early. In hindsight she should have checked the hotel's restaurant hours plus it is barely six a.m. but it's not Emma's fault for waking up so early and still the host could have at least had pity on her and let her have a cup of coffee at least. She nearly had to restrain herself from reaching over and strangling the poor man from keeping her from her day dose of Joe but deciding against it. Instead she decides to wander around the hotel taking advantage of lack of crowd to admire all the hotel has to offer including its public rooms which are full of the hotel and town's rich history.

Emma wanders through most of the rooms, the Apple Room, the Storybrooke Room, but the room that catches her attention what the room entitled Mills Room. Intrigued she walks into the room looking at various small exhibits: a plaque with every play that has ever been performed at the hotel, various pieces of costumes and props, lists of names of various cast and crew members, and a series of other miscellaneous items. Emma is nearly finished with the room as she turns to walk out before a portrait catches her eye.

She stops herself before leaving through the door and instead walks closer towards the image. Hanging on the wall, surrounded by draped velvet and isolated from the rest of the items is a portrait of a young woman and she is beautiful, the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in her life. Emma very nearly stops breathing as she continues to stare at the woman. The woman's dark curls are short and pinned shaping the woman's olive toned face. Her eyes are brown, dark, deep, and rich. A color that she would gladly wrap herself in. The woman is wearing a smile so bright that she wonders what could have caused the woman to smile so much. It is as if the woman herself was the very embodiment of happiness. Yet something else stirs in Emma as she stares at the portrait, like a feeling of familiarity that lives in the recesses of her heart. She is like a woman from a dream she had long ago, full of yellow lights and endless laughter.

She tries to not think about the portrait much longer as she exits the room and makes her way back to the restaurant. She spends the next few days lounging around the hotel, spending time reading, writing and taking walks around the lake. She talks to Ruby who is still begging her to come back to New York, half serious and half joking. Emma laughs it off but as her days start to blend together she actually starts to consider it.

It is at night that is most troubling to Emma, every night she closes her eyes she can see the image of the woman from the photo. Her deep hair, golden skin, and rich eyes. Emma finds herself returning back to the portrait, everyday, staring at the woman some more wondering what made her stick in her mind so much. Looking down below the portrait she finds the nameplate to have the year 1955 engraved but no name. She frowns a bit before a thought strikes her and suddenly Emma is running out of the hotel and down the lake to the Mifflin house.


	2. Chapter 2

"Henry," She knocks on the door. "Henry it's Emma."

The door cracks open, Henry's eyes are wide and brow knitted in confusion. He looks disheveled as if Emma had just woken him up from bed. I probably did, she thinks. "Emma?" He asks, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She looks at him with bags under his eyes and tousled hair, she suddenly feels bad for waking him up to ask such a silly question but she's already done the worse so might as well ask. "Actually Henry, I was wondering whose image was hanging in the room. The Mills Room, the portrait of the woman."

Henry looks at her strangely, of all the things he could have possibly guessed she would have a question about, the portrait hanging in the room was not one of them. Then again it was early morning so perhaps this was all a dream anyway. No, he thinks. Emma is very real and very much in front of him asking a question about an old portrait. Yes, this was too odd to be a dream. "Regina. Regina Mills." Henry answers. "She used to perform plays here in her youth all the way up until her late twenties. After that she stopped performing though no one ever knew why."

"Huh." She says, as she absentmindedly fiddles with her locket, "I wonder why?". She stares out towards the lake, watching the sun rise above it and cast a reflection across its waves. The lake glistens in the morning sun and Emma understands why people wake early to see its beauty.

Henry looks at her speechless. His eyes following her movements and landing on the unmistakable piece of jewelry around her neck. He never thought that he would ever see that locket again yet here it is worn on the neck of a beautiful blonde stranger. "Where did you get that?" He asks, his voice trembles a little.

"Oh, this?" Emma says, pointing to her locket, "Well there's a story behind it actually, on the night of my debut show an old woman, who I've never met before, gave it to me." Henry gives her a wide eyed look which Emma mistakes as confusion. "I know, that's weird right?" She continues, "I never had the heart to give it away and I never had anyway of tracking down the woman who gave it to me so now I just wear it everyday. It's become kinda like my lucky charm, almost." She chuckles, as though it's a story she's told many times before it's meaning nearly lost on her.

"And this show," Henry says carefully, the puzzle pieces moving in his head, "Happened about eight years ago in Boston."

"Yeah." Emma says, as she tears her eyes away from the sunrise. "Wait," She snaps as she suddenly looks at Henry, almost defensively, "How did you know that? I never mentioned it was in Boston."

Henry sighs, opening his front door wider, urging her to come inside. "Because I was the one who took her there." He sighs deeply, unknown feelings bubbling up inside of him. His eyes are clouded with sadness and an emotion she can't quite identify.

"Took who?"

"Regina."

Emma's eyes go wide as she stands there even more confused and perplexed than before this whole ordeal even started. Her head cocks to one side a little and brows furrow even more. Henry looks at her sympathetically, he could see the wheels turning so hard in the woman's head he could swear he sees a little bit of steam coming from her ears. "Come inside." He says waving a hand to follow him. "It seems we have a lot to talk about."

Emma trails after Henry as they enter his house. It's a cute, little house, cozy and simplistic. It has a fireplace, a bookcase, and a few chairs. She sits down in one of the old wicker chairs and Henry sits across from her.

"So," Emma says slowly as if not completely comprehending the situation, "You're telling me that the woman in the picture, who has been stuck in my head ever since I arrived here is...Regina Mills? The same woman who gave me this locket eight years ago?"

Henry looks at her as if he has only just come to the same conclusion. "Well, yes."

That's it. That's all it took for it to finally hit the blonde. That simple reply to cause the realization to crash on her so hard and fast that she was sure that at any moment she was going to burst a blood vessel. Her mind was spinning so fast that everything else felt almost slow. "You mean you drove her for hours to see a play written by a nobody and asked no questions?"

Henry nods slowly as though now realizing how crazy it all sounded. "I would do anything for her, Regina was like a second mother to me. She would always be watching out for me, making sure I never got into too much trouble." Henry chuckles, remember his past youth and childhood days, the memories clouding his eyes, "I remember her wiping my face as I ran past her or bandaging my knee when I fell out of a tree or getting ice cream-" He stops suddenly, recognition flickering behind his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Emma ventures.

He turns towards her slowly and it's as if he's seeing her for the first time in many years with his smile that's even brighter than before, and his eyes softening with a look of familiarity. He's looking at her as though he knows her, his brown eyes full of so much emotion and fondness and she swears she's seen this look before.

"Yes. I'm fine. I just remembered something is all." He says and his knowing eyes are glimmering, "Are you sure we've never met before?"

Emma shakes her head, "I don't think so."

He is still sitting there smiling with his signature knowing look but this time a hint of sadness pricks at his features.

"Henry," Emma says unsure as how to ask the thousands of questions now burning in her mind, "I want to- where can I find out more about her?" She says quickly, expecting a curious gaze from the man but is instead met with a soft smile.

His eyes crinkle at the edges, amusement flooding his features at the fluster and barely contained curiosity he could tell she was trying to hide. "I can help you more than that."

Her brows furrow and she opens her mouth to speak before he cuts her off, "Let me change first and I'll meet in you in the lobby in about fifteen minutes." He all but pushes the blonde out of his house and suddenly she's standing there wide eyed on his wooden porch, her mind racing more than it ever has. Her gaze drifts over towards the lake once more, the blue water glimmering like crystals under the light of the rising sun. She closes her eyes and lingers for a moment, feeling the warmth of the sunrise as sun beams hit her leather jacket and rays caress her skin. She opens her eyes again, green eyes clearer than before and she walks away from the house and towards the hotel.

Emma waits for him in the hotel lobby, her hands in her jean pockets as she leans against one of the public sofas. She stands there people watching, watching the parade of people walk in and out of the seemly quiet and charming hotel. For such a small town there sure are a lot of people, Emma thinks before seeing a couple of guests leave in cosplay costumes. Oh, right, she remembers, there's a convention going on nearby. She continues to pass the time this way until Henry finally walks through the hotel doors.

"Sorry to keep you." He says, struggling to catch his breath. "I had a hard time finding the key. Shall we?" He continues as he leads the way up flights of stairs and down a series of elaborate halls. The pair finally stop in front of the door that leads them to the top suite of the hotel. "I figured that instead of anyone telling you about her life, who better do it than Regina herself," he says, his eyes shining with amusement.

Before Emma has a chance to ask what he means Henry unlocks the door and she is met with the sight of the most beautiful room that she has ever seen. It is large, spacious, too big to be a room and resembles more of a open floor apartment. It is light and airy with bookcases lined with collections from around the world, books on mathematics, physics, astronomy, language, anything anyone could think of.

Where am I? Emma thinks as she strokes the spines of the giant collection.

She looks back at the man who is now watching her carefully as she ventures deeper into the room, "Henry was this-"

"Yes." He replies, "All of this was hers. I figured if you wanted to know more that something in here might just help you."

It was odd, she thinks, that this room that had seemly been untouched for several years still had the feeling of life course through it. It was as if any moment she was expecting Regina herself to walk out and stand before her. Time in this room felt that it has stopped one breezy summer day, the air flowing through the thin white curtains, the laughter of people from below the balcony, all of this seemed to have be captured in a moment and remain. "I'm surprised the room stayed the same." Emma says, glancing at Henry.

He looks at her, his brows furrowing together, "What do you mean?"

Emma sweeps a hand over the bookcase, "That no one moved any of her things out and it's still hers."

Henry's looks at her like she proposed something taboo, "No one would dare. Regina was apart of the hotel, to pack up her stuff and store it always felt almost sacrilegious. The room has been like this since the moment she died."

Emma says nothing as walks around the room some more, examining everything that once belonged to Regina. Pictures of her and young boy hang on the wall, Henry, she thinks foldly as well as a picture of her and a much older woman.

"Henry." Emma says and he turns to face her, "Who's this woman in the picture?" In the image the older woman stands behind a seated Regina, her hand gripping her shoulder possessively. Regina is young in this photo, even younger than her portrait in the room. She must be around eighteen or so, her youth radiating like sunlight throughout the image in stark contrast to the older woman's coldness which Emma could feel even now.

"That's Regina's mother and manager Cora." Henry says, glancing at the photo, "Real piece of work people told me. I don't remember much of her other than she scared the hell out of me." His eyes widen slightly at the memory of her.

She stands there a moment, gazing at the young girl in the photo. Her pink full lips and bright eyes, her skin a youthful glow. She's looks different than the portrait downstairs, there she looks like a woman, here she looks like a girl. "Henry, how- when did she die?"

Henry looks at her with pain across his features, as if weighing options in his mind. Emma stares blankly at him awaiting an answer and with a long sigh he tells her, "On the night of your show. Eight years ago."

The words hit Emma like a slap and suddenly she feels sick as she stumbles around and crashes on the nearby sofa. She is breathing hard and her hands have begun to shake. She tries to remember the last words that she said to the woman, what she said to her but she can't think right now. All she can do is feel as her body is wracked with emotion for reasons she doesn't understand. Of course Emma didn't expect her to be alive now, she would be close to one hundred by now but she didn't expect was for her to be one of the last people on this Earth to see the woman alive. To feel her touch or be captured in her eyes. Everything suddenly felt so wrong. As if Earth's axis had tilt but she only now had understood what that meant.

Henry says nothing as makes his way to the curio cabinet that is nestled in the corner of the room. "I want to show you something." He says pulling out a small yet delicate music box. It's solid white with a gold trim and a swan is painted on the cover not dissimilar to the locket she now wears.

"This was hers." He says sliding the box into her still shaking hands, "Created in memory of her first and only love." He winds it up, turning the knob over and over again until it can't anymore. His fingers lingering on the lid.

"Really? Who was he?" She asks, tears pricking at her eyes and Henry barks out a deep belly laugh.

"No no no. Not a he, a her. This was made for her." He says and before Emma can ask another question Henry opens the box and the melody begins to play. She has to hold herself back from letting a gasp escape her lips. Her head feels like it is spinning and she doesn't understand anything at all.

Emma was young when she first heard this song. One of her foster families had an affinity for classical music, said it helped to nurture the soul or some other claim she had dismissed. Although she would admit she found them odd at the time, they were one of her better foster homes. Throughout the house the radio would play these songs that Emma used to treat as background noise, playing no mind to the orchestras that echoed. That was until one day she heard this melody on the radio. She must have been around ten or eleven years old at the time. Emma had been sent home early, consequences from being apart of a school fight and she sat on the couch anxiously awaiting to tell her foster parents even though she knew the school had called them already.

She sat there as she nervously gripped the couch, her knuckles turning white, the anxiety in her growing like a volcano and ready to explode at any time. She never finished her homework on time, she would spill the milk at dinner, she didn't get perfect grades, there was no way they would overlook this. She knew that when she told them that she would be sent away to another school with another family in another house that would never feel like a home. Discarded carelessly as though her life had meant nothing at all. Yet despite these thoughts shooting through her mind, Emma nearly forgot them all as this song came to play on the radio.

The song seemed to wrap itself around her, soothing all her fears and anxieties. Each note danced and melted on her skin, leaving her body feeling calm yet bright. As if everything was going to be okay somehow. It was what she imagined love to feel like; this strong and confident thing which burrowed itself inside and gave you reasons to live, reasons to be happy. The song played through the empty house and at once she felt peace, hope, feelings she scarcely ever allowed herself to feel , even now decades later. Since then this song has always been hers and the last thing Emma expected was to hear it from the music box of a stranger who seemed to be becoming less and less of one.

"Emma, are you okay?"

She looks at him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, "I'm fine." She says but her lips are wavering and she's trying hard to keep her voice even. Henry looks at her patiently, a secret wisdom bubbling up from inside him. "It's just that this is my favorite song in the whole wide world."

"Huh. What are the odds of that?" But Henry doesn't sound surprised and Emma is too compromised to notice.

"Who was she?" She says, staring into his eyes, "This woman that she loved?" She asks as she wipes her tears on the sleeve of her red leather jacket, struggling to compose herself. She was never an easy one to cry yet it seems this place has opened up heart and all Emma can do now is feel.

"Oh, I don't remember." He says nonchalantly, his eyes sweeping over to look anywhere but her, "I was only five at the time." He says and for some reason her inner lie detector rings but she's not sure why he would lie about this.

Henry speaks again, his voice low and sad, "I actually had forgotten what she looked like until recently, it's been so long." He stops, pain flickering behind his brown eyes, shame clouding his features, "I don't know how but time it seems had nearly erased her from my memory. A woman who brought so much joy to my life and most of all Regina's. That locket was the only thing Regina had to remind herself of her. It was her most prized possession."

Emma says nothing as the song finishes and she hands Henry back the music box. "But none of this makes any sense. Why would she give me this locket that she cared for so deeply to a complete stranger?"

Henry shakes his head, unable to come up with an answer, "You would have to ask her that yourself. I honestly have no idea." He says as he stands up and makes his way to the door.

She continues to sit there a moment, catching her breath and calming herself down, "Do you mind if I stay here for a while. Just for the day, I promise I won't break anything."

Henry looks at her sympathetically, before nodding his head, "Of course, Emma, stay as long as you need." He says before opening the door and leaving the blonde alone with her thoughts.

He returns later that night, knocking lightly on the door before turning the knob, "Emma?" He says as he walks into the room. The moonlight had trickled through the thin, white curtains, providing little illumination to the otherwise dark room. Books and images were scattered along the floor, articles published about her work as an actress and her life, detailing her career from the age of eighteen until the moment she quit. Pictures of her through her childhood which seemed to be numerous until her late twenties where they soon became few and far in between. He spies the blonde laying on the couch, an arm resting under her head and the other on a picture in front of her face. It's an image of Regina. The same photo from the room down stairs but shot at a different angle and perhaps a different person. It's still Regina smiling that brilliant smile but this time she is looking towards something or someone rather. The face of the person unseen but a wave of long blonde hair visible in the corner.

Henry smiles to himself, he hoped that she would find this, as he grabs a blanket from the couch and drapes it over the sleeping woman, "Emma." He whispers, "Her name was Emma."

 **A/N: I hope you are enjoying the story, let me know what you all think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Let me know how you are enjoying the story, I'd love to hear some feedback. Enjoy!**

She spends the next few days pouring over the details of her life. Spending more time in Regina's room than in her own. She pours through the books on her shelves, desperate to piece together her interests, her likes, her dislikes, to learn anything about this woman and the life she once lived. At first it all started out like a mystery, a curiosity to discover how she knew her and unwind this thread between them. Then somehow something bloomed in Emma, like a flower planted long ago but only now yielding its blossom. It's ridiculous honestly, she thinks, that she could feel herself developing feelings for this woman. A woman who she will never have the chance to meet again. Falling in love with her felt like falling in love with the stars; ever in sight but ever out of touch. Yes, this was far worse than unrequited love.

Henry seems to notice the change in her too as he stops by and asks how things are are going, a box of donuts and coffee in his hands.

"Good. I mean, I don't really know what I'm looking for exactly." She says opening the door wider and shoving a donut in her mouth and taking the coffee. "Except for maybe answers but it seems the only person who could answer my questions is gone." She says, sounding almost defeated, her eyes slightly downcast.

Henry nods, laying the box down on the table before walking past her towards the bookcase. He lets his fingers run over the remaining books and eyes one nestled in the corner, "Do you like science books?"

Emma looks up from what she is reading, her brows furrowing, "What?"

He smiles at her and repeats it again slowly as if she didn't understand, "I said, do you like science books?"

Her head cocks to the side a bit, "I heard you the first time it just didn't make any sense."

He smiles at her as he pulls a hardcover from the bookcase, one of the remaining books Emma had yet to rip off the shelf and go through. "I think you'll like this one." He hands the book over to her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

The book is a blue hardcover adorned with images of constellations, stars, and galaxies. It reads, The Theory of Time Travel and Alternate Realities in gold writing. "Was Regina reading this?" Emma says as she reads the cover of the book, her fingers running lightly against the book's uncut pages.

Henry nods, "It was one of her favorites. It was all she could talk about once it was published." He says pointing to the bookmarker.

Emma touches the book, letting her fingers rub over the title's raised words and looking low to find the author's name written in a similar fashion. Inside she flips through the pages to find notes scrawled in the margins, arrows and annotations cover the pages written in Regina's unmistakeable script. She continues flips through the pages and opens to find a note written on the inside cover.

Dearest Regina,

I hope this book gives you the answers you're searching for and the happiness that you seek. Good luck.

-Your Friend,

Belle French

Emma reads the note carefully, a thought turning in her head, "But why would she be reading something like this?"

Henry averts his gaze, something he does when he's about to lie, "I'm not sure but," He says perking up, "I do know where to find someone who does."

...

It takes Emma less than ten minutes to drive over to the Storybrooke Library, the safe haven for this Belle French. Emma drives through the town noticing all of the local shops, cafes, and even clock tower she missed when she arrived late the days prior. She parks her yellow bug in front of the steps of the library as she gets out and walks towards the doors.

"Hello." A woman greets as Emma walks through the doors, "Is there anything I can help you with?" The woman is small and petite with long brown hair and sharp blue eyes. She reminds her of a pixie of some sort, seemingly innocent on the outside but Emma can see a passion in the woman's eye and she speaks with an accent. Australian maybe? Emma thinks as she listens to the woman.

"Yeah. I was actually looking for the author of a book. Belle French."

The woman smiles brightly, her eyes the color of the lake, "Well you came to the right place. That's me. How can I assist you?"

Emma pulls out the book from her bag, "I was hoping you could tell me about what I read in here."

The smile on the woman's face is gone as she looks at the book then back at Emma, her eyes wide with curiosity, "Where did you get this?" She asks taking the book, "This is my first edition published nearly a decade ago, only very few people have a copy." She flips through the pages, "This belonged to-"

"Regina. I know." Emma says, it seems all the questions she has these days are about Regina and only Regina herself can answer them.

The woman gapes at Emma, studying her closely, "How did you get it? Did she give it to you before-" The woman stops, a look of sadness crosses her face and she takes a breath as if unable to mutter the word, "you know."

"Well," Emma says, searching for an explanation and failing to come up with one. How could she explain to someone this sort of obsession she had developed? Her eagerness to learn everything she can about the woman who seemingly trusted her with her most precious possessions. Could she verbalize how she felt to see the look of desperation and hope that crossed the woman's face and would there even be a word to describe it? Regina's voice still rings in her ears, the plea echoing in her head, come back to me. Like a mantra that Emma repeats over and over, finding new meanings and hidden messages in the waves of the woman's voice. "Not quite."

Belle studies Emma a moment longer, her eyes sweeping over every inch of the blonde and landing on the locket. Then in a moment a light flashes behind her blue eyes and she smiles in a sort of realization and discovery. "Well Emma, it's been a long time since someone has asked me a question on this book." Belle says, eyeing the blonde, her brow arched in question. Emma smiles innocently, trying her best to appear puppy-like but failing miserably.

"Come." Belle says, waving her hand for her to follow, "Let's go have a talk." She follows the woman into what appears to be a study. The room is covered wall to wall with collections of books and in the middle of the room stands a desk with chairs. "Please sit," Belle says as she gestures towards the seat. "And tell me what exactly would you like to know."

"Okay," Emma starts slowly, "Hear me out. I know I sound crazy and I know that it's completely ridiculous and damn impossible but ever since I picked up this book, I haven't been able to get the question out of my head. Please, just tell me honestly, is time travel real?" The woman looks at her with an unreadable expression on her face as Emma continues to speak, "I mean I went through your book and it spoke about so many things I didn't understand plus some words I didn't even know existed and I just wanted to know if it is possible. Could a person be here one moment then gone the next? How do we reach these different periods of time? Can we-"

"Well," Belle says, interrupting the blonde. "It seems like you've thought a lot about this."

Emma's face turns red and she rubs the back of her neck, "Ah, I guess so. The question just seemed to stick to me and once it did, I couldn't get it out."

"I'm surprised Regina never spoke to you about any of this. This topic was all she could talk about once my book was published. She never said anything to you?" She asks skeptically.

"It seems my interest came a bit late to ask her anything." Emma says, a look of sadness washing over her face.

"Hm, perhaps." The woman says lightly, a smile tugging at her lips, "And to answer your question yes and no. Time travel is real but only in theory, and the theory is just that, a theory. We don't know if the theory is correct and it is incredibly hard to test as one could imagine."

"And if it was, if it was possible how could a person do it?" Emma says leaning in closer to the woman, waiting expectantly before adding, "In theory of course."

"It is in my opinion that time travel would be possible but would also be extremely hard to do. It requires hours of concentration, focus, stamina, and would push your mind beyond its limits. Be warned that if done correctly there may only be one chance to be successful. That the opportunity is only available once in a person's lifetime." She looks carefully at her, "What makes you want to learn about it?"

Emma turns beet red again, her fingers fidgeting nervously around her locket. Belle follows her movements, eyeing the locket before her eyes snap back up to meet pale green ones. "Never mind." Belle says and she takes a deep breath, "I don't need to know, your business is your own but answer me honestly, would you be willing to give up everything you know to attempt this? All your friends and loved ones, those who care about you and who will never get a chance to see again or say goodbye. Could you give up your life in the present for the even the smallest possibility to find what you are searching for in the past?"

Emma sits there a moment, letting all the information sink in. She knew that if she were to do this and be successful that she would be letting go of everything she had ever worked for. Her job, her life, her friends, everything that she had fought tooth and nail for she would have to be willing to leave behind. The thought of this scared her a little, the idea that she would never again be able to hear her best friend's laugh, or see Henry's knowing smile. The memories of them surround her like the arms of a loved one, filling her to the brim with joy.

Then, just as quickly, the memories morph into those of that night filled with harsh yellow lights, the whispers of strangers, and the crisp Boston air against her skin. The locket suddenly feels heavy against her chest, pushing down on her with all the weight of the emotions it carries inside. The portrait flashes behind her eyes, the feeling of awe when she first saw her face pricks at her skin. The music box plays in her ears, its melody which now means more to her than she ever thought was possible. All the thoughts in her head form into this uncontrollable cyclone with hopes of what could be. Her imagination is running rampant, she can feel the touch Regina's hand upon her arm already and suddenly her heart feels so light and so full, the storm in her mind dissipating to reveal the rising sun. She takes a deep breath, she knows what she must do. "Yes."

Belle looks at her with a satisfied grin on her face, "Alright, here's what you should do."

After explaining what needed to be done and where to get all of the supplies needed, she kindly thanked Belle for her time as they walked towards the entrance of the library. Emma beamed as she had all the information she need to run with an idea that was frankly, insane but theoretically possible, and that gave her some sort of hope. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this has helped me."

"It was no problem at all. I've been waiting a long time for someone to ask me the questions you did, I am just happy I could be of some help." The woman responds with a bright smile on her face.

Emma turns to walk out of the library before turning back quickly to face Belle. "Before I go, could I ask you one last question?" Belle nods politely, urging the blonde to ask. "Have you ever traveled in time?"

Belle looks away for a moment before turning back towards her and giving her a sad smile. "Once. Or so I thought, even now I can't be sure that it wasn't all just a dream but it felt very real." Belle says, her eyes threatening to betray her, "Believing it was real is what gave and cost me everything, so please Emma be careful." The woman's eyes are pleading and she looks earnest in her warning. Emma gives the woman a tight smile before thanking her once more walking out of the library and into the chilly Maine air, never noticing that she never told the woman her name.

It takes Emma less than half the day, thanks to Henry, to conjure up all the supplies needed. She contemplates telling him what all the items are really for but settles on telling him its for a little pet project of hers, something to do with a new play that she is writing. He was more than happy to help Emma get everything she needed and she felt bad that she couldn't tell him the truth but it's better this way, she thinks.

She visits the local coin shop and buys out all the money she could that would be useful for 1955. The man looked at her strangely before she pulled out a wad of cash for which he was much more willing to help her find what she needed. She talks the local theatre group into letting her borrow some of their costumes from around that time, thanking them and promising to return them soon. She clears out all of the modern accessories from her hotel room, leaving nothing else except for the bed, dresser, and one chair. She slips on the outfit, perfect for the fifties with a squared shouldered coat and hip hugging skirt and even adds a touch of color on her lips. She lays all her money on the bed, separating the currency from now and then, slipping all modern money into the pocket of her leather jacket that hangs in her closet along with all other items that might remind her of where she comes from. All except her locket which remains safe around the woman's neck.

She crawls onto the bed, laying there and remembering the instructions she was given, Make yourself believe that you are already there, is what Belle had told her. To think about what she would be hearing, seeing, or smelling right now in this exact moment, that whatever that was to hold onto it and believe that it is happening with every fiber of her being.

Light is trickling in through the curtains and I can feel the warmth of sun on my face. The birds are chirping outside and I can hear the laughter of children below and the shuffling of steps outside my door. I can smell the aroma of coffee from the restaurant below, it's strong and potent. I can feel my limbs slide across the satin sheets their warmth radiating across my body. I am here, at the Grand Storybrooke Hotel in the summer of the year nineteen fifty-five. I am here.

Emma repeats this over and over and over again, letting it burrow itself into her mind and burn across her skin. Emma can feel the words as they are repeated again and again. The feeling of light on her face as the sunbeams dances across her skin, leaving their starburst kisses. The melody of life from just outside her door: the birds, the children, the footsteps. As if life itself created its own orchestra. The smooth richness of the coffee wafts into the room from below the crack in the door. It fills the air and reminds her of an far away and foreign cafe across the ocean. The satin below her crinkles and smooths as it moves with her body. It leaves its feather like touches across her skin like the movements of a delicate lover. She repeats the year that has suddenly become so significant to her. The year slides off of her tongue like velvet, nineteen fifty five.

She repeats this again and again until her whole world fades to black.

She opens her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the light in the room. She stretches as she rises from the bed and straightens out her clothes. Her lipstick is intact but her hair is a mess as she lets her blonde hair hang her sides. Did I do it? She thinks as she walks around the room. Everything looks the same as she left it and she doesn't feel any different, maybe it worked?

Suddenly her cell phone rings from her jacket pocket and with a groan she rises and swings open the closet door to see Ruby's icon pop on the screen. She hits ignores and types a half ass excuse about being absolutely exhausted before curling back up in the bed letting her disappointment burrow inside her. She stays like this with her knees tucked into her chest and mind so chaotic that it feels nearly calm and she closes her eyes and dreams about a beautiful woman.

She tries again the next day and the day after that and the one after that, each day yielding the same result. Each morning she would wake up drenched in sweat, her mind exhausted and with so much fatigue it was hard to get up. Each day it would serve a reminder that she was one more day in the present and not in the past, not where she wanted to be. It felt like a failure and all those voices inside of her which she had been able to silence, to control, now resurfaced with a new vengeance. She was a failure, worthless, not good enough, never going to be good enough, a pretty blonde distraction and nothing more.

Henry had started to worry about her as he stopped by frequently and make sure she ate something and provide some sort of human interaction as she stayed isolated from everyone. She couldn't describe how terrible she felt to see the lines of concern cut into the man's face, his brows knitted in worry and his eyes glassy.

"Emma," He says softly, "How can I help you? Tell me what you need please. Anything and I'll get it for you."

She had saw the compassion in his eyes and she wanted desperately to tell him everything. That this was not all for a play or a pet project of hers, that this was her life. That she had fallen so in love with a woman that she was willing to sacrifice her present if only for a chance to meet her once again. But all of this died on her tongue as she shook her head and said she needed nothing but that she was appreciative.

Henry looks at her with a sad resignation in his eyes before turning back towards the door. He stops to glance back, his hand on the knob, before saying, I believe in you Emma, I believe in you." The words leave his lips so breathlessly as if telling a simple and undeniable truth. Beyond Ruby, no one else had ever believed in her like this. People heard her story and expected her to fail, to not be as good as the others. Many times she tried to fight back and show the world who she was but these thoughts were always there. She would push and push against them some days were easier, others harder. But standing here now, looking into his eyes that shine with so much emotion, an unmistakable devotion, seem somehow to cut through her self wallowing and strike her at her core.

As if awaking from a trance Emma steeled herself and became more determined than ever to meet (again) the woman she loves. Closing her eyes she whispers the words again and again, each letter tattooing itself on her mind and soul. She repeats them for what feels like hours when suddenly she drones out her own voice and hears nothing at all.

Emma wakes the next morning to a soft knock at the door. "Hello, is anyone in there?" The voice says. She slowly opens her eyes, looking around the room which still remained untouched and the disappointment crashes over her once again. She rises from her bed and walks towards the door, failing to notice the sun that beams through the cracks in the curtains and the birds chirping outside. Emma doesn't remember ordering room service but maybe Henry has come to check on her again. She cracks the door open to peer outside. "Hello?" She asks tentatively.

A young maid stands in front of her, she can't be more than eighteen at the most she thinks as the maid stands there with her hands nervously at her sides. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Emma, "I'm so sorry Miss. I've just come to change the sheets." She says, her eyes downcast, "I didn't mean to disturb you, I apologize. I was told this room was vacant."

Emma smiles back at the maid, "Oh, it's fine. Don't worry about it. I was just on my way out actually." She says as she grabs her leather- No, thick wool coat. Really is this what they wore in the fifties? She should probably change out the clothes and return it to the theater but she hasn't the energy right now so she will have to bear with the outfit. "Have you seen Henry?" She asks as she walks out.

The maid furrows her brows and looks at her with a questioning look. "You know, Henry." Emma repeats, "tousled brown hair, bright eyes." She teases but the maids eyes brighten with understanding.

"Oh, Henry!" The maid says, "Of course, he's downstairs with his parents I believe."

"With his parents?" Emma looks at the girl strangely. Henry had to be in his late seventies at most which means his parents had to be in their nineties or hundreds at least. Which is odd because most people don't have their parents live that long nevertheless both of them. Then suddenly a thought hits her like a lightning rod. Emma's eyes go wide and she can feel panic and anticipation course through her body. Her heart beats fast in her chest. "Um, silly question but what's today's date?"

"July twenty-eighth nineteen fifty five."

"Nineteen fifty five..." Emma repeats slowly as if not completely comprehending what the maid had said. It takes her a moment to compose herself before she plasters on one of her infamous smiles and gives the maid a look which reads 'I'm fine' though she doubts she will believe it. Emma's not sure she believe it either since she now in nineteen fifty fucking five! She can't believe she made it. Happiness and anxiety run rampant in her body and she's not sure she won't just implode the moment she sees her. Regina.

Emma hugs the maid in an outburst of emotion and the maid equally as confused as to what is happening hugs her back. "Thank you -" she looks down to read the girl's name tag, "Eugenia, really thank you!" She says as she gives the maid one more squeeze before fleeing. The maid stands there, still frozen in Emma's downway, her eyes trailing the blonde woman as she runs down the hall.


End file.
